


Faultlines

by Daughter_of_the_Stars



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, honestly, i know ya'll hate him and that's cool but, please give this man a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 06:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_the_Stars/pseuds/Daughter_of_the_Stars
Summary: “I’m sorry,” he gasps, between sobs that shake his shoulders and struggles to take a breath. Oscar is silent, he realizes. But he can feel the boy’s pity, and that might be worse.





	Faultlines

**Author's Note:**

> Original post and prompt can be found [here](https://edelblume.tumblr.com/post/180386469793/if-youd-like-a-rwby-prompt-how-about-this-what).

By the time he feels Oscar return to his own mind, Ozpin has gone numb.

It’s beyond the blistering chill of the air around them; beyond the tears that are already running frozen on his cheeks. It’s worse than the bitter linger of anger that’s left a sour taste in his mouth, or the fear - _and he is so, so scared_ \- that has yet to let go of his stomach. It strikes him to the bone and consumes exactly everything. He can’t think, can barely breathe, and it’s not enough yet too much all at once.

He wonders briefly – tries to recall – if this is what it felt like the first time.

Ozpin doesn’t lift his head. He doesn’t dare, nor does he need to. He can feel their anger well enough. Their judgement. And he doesn’t blame them.

“Salem can’t be killed…” comes Yang’s voice, tight with a thin veil of calm. “You all heard her too right?”

“I-” he tries – like he _always_ tries – but can’t push past the first syllable. He distantly notices that his hands are shaking as much as his voice.

“There was so much you hadn’t told us!” she snaps, and he winces. “How could you think that was okay?”

He raises a hand to cover his mouth, but it’s too late. The first sob escapes, hoarse and broken and impossibly loud in the whistle of the wind. And Gods, does it feel _wrong_. It writhes, and twists, and burns in his chest but for all some small part of him is yelling for him to get up, to pull together whatever scraps of composure he can and try to explain, he knows only that it _hurts_.

He sees them, still. The visions have passed, the Relic of Knowledge lies idle again, but they’ve not disappeared. His youngest – _Mercy_ , comes the memory, sharpening with the pain – waddles around in the snow, making animated little sounds as she plays with her toy. Lydia’s breathless laughter echoes in his ears, carried by the breeze. He watches them crumble again, hears them scream, consumed by flames and turned to ash, and a strangled sort of cry catches in his throat.

He’s not sure when he squeezed his eyes shut, but when he opens them again, Ruby has stopped. Her hands are no longer clenched by her sides, and while the others remain steadfast in their visible rage, her expression - _betrayal, anger, accusation_ \- has softened into something like shock. Something like sympathy. Ozpin can’t stand it.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, between sobs that shake his shoulders and struggles to take a breath. Oscar is silent, he realizes. But he can feel the boy’s pity, and that might be worse.

“You damn well better be!” Yang yells, taking an agitated step forward. Ozpin recoils. His gaze flits to Qrow. The man has his back turned. “Do you even have a plan? Do you?”

He doesn’t know how to reply.

“Yang,” Ruby says quietly. She reaches out to her sibling, but her gaze never leaves him. “Maybe we should-”

“Should what, Ruby?” the blonde demands, whirling on her heel. Ruby pulls away, eyes wide at the blunt force of her sister’s anger. She glances between the pair, brow furrowing with some sort of indecision. Ozpin silently implores her not to defend him. It’s a mercy he doesn’t deserve. But then, she straightens and shakes her head. Her expression is firm but when she speaks, it’s soft.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this here.”

Yang gives a harsh snort. “Oh no. He’s not getting off that easy.” She stalks toward him, face contorted with rage, and drags him up by the collar. Oscar’s squeak of surprise and fear has him opening his mouth – _please_ – but Yang’s already yelling. “You didn’t answer my question, you bastard!”

“Yang!”

He doesn’t answer. Nor does he so much as twitch a finger to defend himself when the punch connects with his jaw, and his back slams into a tree several feet away. It’s only for Oscar’s sake that he even activates their Aura, however briefly.

The impact does, however, shake lose something inside him. He feels it crack and the cold is replaced by searing heat. He doesn’t stand – he thinks he would fall again if he tried – but he does finally speak.

“What would you like me to say?”

It’s monotonous and void of inflection or emotion and Yang halts, red giving way to lilac with her blink of surprise.

“Any apology I could give clearly won’t suffice,” Ozpin clarifies casually. He draws himself to his feet, leaning on the tree for support, and absentmindedly brushes the snow from his shoulders. His fingers tremble violently.

“Yes. I lied to you when I said the questions for this era had been used, because I believed the urge to use the relic for whatever personal reason would not easily be ignored.” His gaze trails to Ruby, cold and hard, and she seems to shrink a bit. Bitterness seeps into his tone. “It would seem, in that regard, my distrust was founded.”

He takes a deep breath, trying to quell the flames, but it only makes them lick higher. “I will not argue that you are justified in wanting answers. But that,” he points to the Relic, laying in the snow, “was not your concern.”

The anger leaps back into the blonde’s eyes. “Not our-”

“My daughters,” he interjects, raising his voice above hers. She falters. “I watched them die a thousand times. I’ve not forgotten the moment I-” his voice breaks. He can see them again. Tears burn hot in his eyes, and he doesn’t blink them away. “The moment I realized I’d failed to protect them. I’ve not forgotten what my actions wrought. What I helped her do.” He smiles. It’s not kind. “But thank you for reminding me.”

The wind blows. For the first time, a flash of guilt passes over the girls’ otherwise uneasy expressions.

“What right do you have?” he asks, his voice dropping back to a whisper. He knows he’s wrong; knows his anger seems that of a petulant child, but the words come – seething, and sharp, and all of a sudden far louder – and he doesn’t have the strength to hold them back.

“Do you think I wanted this?” Ozpin gestures to their surroundings with a wide, jerking sweep of his arm. “To realize what the woman I loved had become? To fight her, endlessly? To live and die, knowing I could never stop her? To steal lives away from those who deserved peace?!” His hand curls into the fabric at his chest, and Oscar makes another small noise at the acknowledgement. “To endanger your lives?! To keep secrets that would tear humanity apart?! To know that all I’ve done is-”

A shuddering sob – one he didn’t even realize he was holding in – rips itself from him, and his knees buckle. He chokes on his next breath, and passes a hand over his eyes, but no more tears come. The numbness returns as silence settles.

Somewhere in the distance, a Beowulf howls.

“What else would you have had me do?” he says unevenly, any previous trace of venom gone. Gods, he’s just tired, and the fear is more raw than ever. When he finally looks up, he’s met by shock and misted silver eyes. He almost laughs. Instead, he repeats himself.

“Do you think I wanted this, Miss Xiao Long? Do you truly believe any of this was my intention?“

Another memory of laughter drifts by. His hands curl into fists.

“Do you think I don’t know what I am?”

They don’t answer.


End file.
